The Fell Brotherhood
by Inscribson
Summary: Two dark boys. Two dark daggers. Two fates brought together. Add one bad wizard...we'll find out...Rated for adult references and themes. Harry and Tim Drake, Robin. Batman xover. SLASH! and Triggers for SI.SM in later chapters. Will be slightly Dark.
1. Robin

The Batman. This phrase causes hardened criminals to duck and hide, crime lords to flinch, and Public Relations to praise the drop in…well, _petty_ crimes, at least.

Why is this? Batman can't see or fly through walls, isn't super fast, has no retractable claws or magic ring. He's never been dropped into a steaming vat of industrial waste, hasn't been exposed to off-the-charts levels of radiation, has no known mutant gene, isn't from another galaxy, hasn't been blessed by an ancient god, has a normal particle vibration rate, and hasn't been transformed by a mutant creature's bite (although sometimes I wonder about the bats…)

Yet he's survived countless traps, duels, and assassination attempts. He's been frozen, burnt, beaten, broken, stabbed, poisoned, and riddled with bullets. He's the person anyone could be if they dedicated their lives to being really athletic, _really _smart, and _**really**_ scary. He's the best crimefighter in the world, and I'm lucky enough to be part of his Batclan.

My name is Timothy Drake, but to the Bat, I am **Robin**. I'm not _The Robin, _or even _Robin 2.0_, truth be told. I'm merely Robin the III, an uninspiring heir to the title. Third's for the best? Don't believe it.

I'm not the worst Robin, I guess. I mean there's no Robin 004, is there? But I know nothing about Jason Todd, _Robin 2.0._ Batman and Nightwing (_The Robin,_ but he gave up the tights because of Batman's fear of child endangerment), the Oracle, and even Dr. Les never speak of him.

All I learned was from Alfred, and that was a note pinned to this journal. "Don't let your passions rule you, or you'll face a bitter end." I think Alfred was trying to tell me something, as this journal was lying on my pristine fluffed up pillow the day after Jason's anniversary. The day after I had demolished most of my room in a fit of rage at the distinct lack of information.

I put this journal away, thinking of Alfred's message but not writing in it until one day at the tower, when Kon-el told me that he journals, and that it really helped him deal with some issues. Kon is a lab creation, as much as I hate to call him that. He was made from two genetic fathers, total polar opposites. Lex Luthor and Superman. He has many powers that are like or mimic Superman's, and he has the genius brains of Lex Luthor. However, he has a hero complex and is often emotionally unstable. He's my best friend, at least in the comrades-at-saving-the-world sense.

When Kon told me he journals, he just _looked _at me. It was as if he knew. But, he couldn't have known, because if he did, he would have flipped and told someone – Starfire or Beast Boy or Cyborg or Alfred or even –

_**NO**_! I am definitely _not _going there, even in a journal. I am _not _thinking about what **He **would do if **He **found out. He's perfect, and I'm supposed to be perfect, too. He'd either kill me or make me leave and never come back. I'd rather He kill me, if it came to that.

Ha, it's ironic, really. The reason I started was to be perfect, like Him, and it became another thing that further separated me from my goal. I am **Robin**, but I am Tim Drake, too. And while Robin is a symbol, Drake is completely human. With the accompanying human weaknesses. Deceit, treachery, pride, fear, envy, lust, indecisiveness, every conceivable stain on humanity. I have known both sexes completely, and have thoroughly enjoyed it.

People have _died_ due to my choices.

I have – twice – killed.

The Bat made me study Shakespeare when I got an A- in British Literature. He said that the Bard (Gah, that sounds like some new supervillian!) was an excellent study in human behavior. Right now, with me listing all of my worst features, it seems that I am turning into Malcolm, saying every reason why he shouldn't be king.

But, unfortunately, I am not Malcolm seeing if MacDuff is ready to kill me to preserve the country. I am an evil person, and I admit it. I needed to be punished, to be purified. But I couldn't ask for help, because no one knew. After all, superheroes' sidekicks aren't supposed to be evil.

So, one day after school I went as Drake to different pawnshops around town, not really sure what I was looking for. I was on the sixth dingy shop when I found Her.

I was about to leave the shop when my hand brushed against something that sent a jolt up my arm, then through my entire body. I stopped and picked the offending item up, examining it. It was a dagger, beautiful and elegant.

Her blade looked to be silver, but infinitely sharper and harder. Her hilt and scabbard where black pear, with vines of the same silver metal engraved _in _it, if that makes sense. When I looked closer at the decorative vines, I realized that they were actually tiny snakes, curled and contorted around strange symbols and a short poem. It said,

"My shame and sorrows know no bounds but those I set by blood. My soul's true mate is with me found in this fell brotherhood."

A little freaked out, I tried to set Her down, but – and I still can't describe it without being stunned – She wouldn't _let _me! Instead I found myself being drawn to the counter. The dingy owner of the shop told me the previous owner had claimed there was one other even remotely like it, ever made.

He didn't seem to believe it, though, and gave Her to me for $3.50, as if she was a common pocketknife.


	2. Potter Updated

Harry Potter. This name makes Dark Lords cringe, Death Eaters sweat, and Light wizards cheer…most of the time. But why is this? He's just a boy, not even 17 yet. He isn't a Mage, Animagus, Metamorphmagus, sorcerer, philosopher, or warlock. He's not been gifted by a sphinx, unicorn, or phoenix, has never been given a powerful inherited artifact to enhance his magical core and has yet to reach his magical surge.

He's not even had a decent growth spurt yet!

He's simply the wizard any could be if their lives were dedicated to being really fast, _really _good at snap decisions, and _**really**_ lucky. He's the best Dark Wizard catcher outside of the elite Hit Wizard Squad, known throughout the wizarding world, and Magical Britain's Most Eligible Bachelor.

I am unlucky enough to be him.

I'm not really Harry Potter, not on the inside. Potter's the Savior of the Wizarding World. I'm just Absolom, at least in my mind and to Hermione, Ginny and Snape. Potter is a completely different person to me.

Hermione and Gin, when I had absently asked them to call me Absolom, had actually sat down and had a conversation _with_ me. Well, they tried to, but I'm not really fond of people trying to figure out what's inside my head. Hermione thought I created the two different people to protect myself from the pressures the world put on me. Gin just told me she'd be sick of the name Harry Potter by now, too.

Hermione, clever girl that she is, has found a way for Potter to kill Tom Riddle. It's why Potter got special permission to leave the school and go to Diagon Alley. The process was so simple yet complex that only Hermione would have ever found it.

After the Priori Incantatem incident, Tom would have not taken any chances, and would have gotten a new wand with which to fight. Hermione suggested Potter do the same, only go one step further. She suggested placing glamour on both of Potter's wands to make each look like the other. Since Tom and Potter would both be more powerful with their original wands, Tom would jump at the chance to fight a Potter with a weaker second wand.

After Tom attacked, it would be an easy thing for Potter to enact the Priori Incantatem, and use his force of will to destroy Tom's wand (That is why Potter got special permission to leave the school for an afternoon, to go to Mr. Ollivander's shop and the arduous task of trying wands). It would then be easy for Potter with his own wand to beat Tom's weaker one. Then Potter would use the three Unforgivable Curses, although the Wizarding World would probably forgive him in this case. Crucio to weaken Tom's defenses, Imperio to make him renounce any and all steps to immortality, and finally the Killing Curse.

A little complicated, yes, but years of observing people trying to fit in has given me the ability to figure out how they will react. Spending five years with me has given Hermione the same trait. This is how we both knew it would work.

Wait, I said it was simple, right? I was wrong. The only simple part about it would be preparing for battle.

You see, Potter knows it will be simple. He's full of righteous anger and determination, knowing that in the end it will be up to him and that he Absolutely. Can. Not. Fail. But Absolom knows it will be anything _but_ simple. I am not the opinionated, headstrong boy they think I am.

Harry Potter is a symbol, _**the **_symbol, the shinning beacon for everything Light. But Absolom…well, Absolom isn't so squeaky-clean. He's just another human filled with fear, cowardice, desperation, hate, and lust. Especially lust. My desires can't seem to be filled for more than a few hours at a time.

Trust me, I've tried.

Of course, there is no lack of fellow Hogwarts students who would willingly spend time under Potter's sheets, guy and girl alike – sometimes both at once. I've done everything imaginable, with more people than you'd think. But few, if any, know about my lifestyle, because I Obliviate everyone I take, not just those I've forced.

Yes, you understood correctly. I am **not **a nice person. Potter would help a fourth-year in study period, then ten minutes later I take him behind the greenhouse.

I admit it freely. I enjoy it. I embrace every stimulation, from standing pressed against a flushing fifth-year to wearing nothing beneath my robes to wearing a vibrating cock-ring and ass plug during class (I especially enjoy that last one.).

The only people I have off-limits are Ron, Hermione and Gin, but oh ye gods, it's hard to avoid her when she throws herself at me. But they're my only true friends.

At least, I hope so.


	3. Absolom

**This is to R.R.R. You know who you are.**

Oh, by the way, it was Fred and George who got me hooked on my toys – they heard a rumor and sent me a few…lovely prototypes…

But let me put this straight. I am **not **a sex addict! Nothing ever seems to satisfy me, is all. The only thing that lasts is the sight of blood.

Which is why, as I sit down in front of the fire in my room (What can I say? Potter's training gives him special privileges!) I am staring at the reflected light from Her.

She's exquisite, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. She has detailing so precise, it's hard to tell where the words end and the snake-like runes begin.

"Wishing and waiting - crimson yearning, full of passions I am burning. Naught but life can help me live, to my soul I'll freely give."

Her blade is made of what the dwarves call mithril, a metal that looks like silver but is indestructible and holds a sharp edge indefinitely.

Potter certainly drew a bunch of looks as he turned off Diagon Ally onto Knockturn. As soon as he stepped in, I put a glamour on myself, looking more like Tom's 16-year-old memory. Still, by the time I got to Borgin and Burke's, the shield Snape put on me was warm and gave a slight glow.

When I entered the shop I took off the glamour and wandered around as Potter, ignoring the looks from the shopkeep. After looking around and finding nothing that caught my attention, I went up to the counter, trying not to seem like a Malfoy…too much.

"I noticed you have very little in the way of knives, daggers and blades. Do you, perhaps, have a…larger selection in back?" The shopkeep sneered at me, and I couldn't help not liking him. However, I slid ten Galleons across the counter.

"Ah, well. I just hoped I'd be able to speak to Mr. Borgin himself…" I shrugged and headed for the door. A hand reached out to catch my arm when I touched the doorknob, but I had both wands pointed at the man before I could think. The man didn't look phased.

"You told Stephen you were looking for me, Mr. Potter?" I lowered my wands and gave a small bow from the waist.

"Yes, Mr. Borgin. I know for a fact that what you have displayed isn't the extent of your supplies. I'm willing to pay well for a bit of time looking at the rest of your blades and daggers."

Mr. Borgin just looked at me for a few seconds, then nodded. "Alright. Follow me, Mr. Potter."

"Please Mr. Borgin, lets not stand on formalities. Just call me Absolom – I hate the name Harry Potter."

Mr. Borgin led me behind the counter, then kicked aside a rug revealing a trap door (oh, that is just _so_ original) and lead me down, shooing off the now over-eager Stephen. I found out I was right – before I had only been guessing as to how much was hidden in the store, based on what I remembered from before my second year. The store above was only a preview! I thought I'd like to come back, and must have said so for Mr. Borgin said, "Perhaps, Absolom. Perhaps."

He led me to a room full of broadswords, rapiers, sabers, daggers, halberds, and many more sharp-edged weapons I didn't know the proper names to. As I wandered, Mr. Borgin ("Bernard, please, if were not standing on formalities.") exchanged small talk.

"So, why has Dumbledore let his savior out of the safety of the school?" I looked up sharply, but saw no sarcasm on his face, so I returned to my browsing.

"Because I needed extra defenses."

"Oh? I hardly see any Aurors."

"Let's just say that I'm not armed as lightly as some think." This made Bernard smile a little.

"Ah, yes...now I remember – your second wand."

"Perhaps." I stopped in front of a 5ft metal pole that had sharp blades on the ends. Bernard noticed my interest.

"That's a modified bo-staff. An almost dead art form these days, I'm afraid."

"Too bad, it looks like something I'd like to…learn…some…time…" My hand was resting on the scabbard of a dagger. I picked Her up, examining. "Bernard? I've found her." The shopkeep was at my side in an instant, looking at Her with me.

"Strange. Everyone else seems to be shocked or burnt by her if they even brush against. She's only one of two made, I was told, when she was brought in oh, at least twenty or so years ago. If she chose you, you can keep her. A present in the hopes of a profitable business relationship."

"Bernard, I can't just take Her. At least let me pay what you did." In the end, after about teen minutes more and a promise to come back soon to share some stories, a glamoured Harry Potter made his way back to Diagon Alley.


	4. Triggers SKIP IF COMPELLED

**First off, a warning. **

_**This chapter contains what I believe to be **_STRONG TRIGGERS**_ for those who are dealing with _**CUTTING_**. If you are among those who (like myself) have the compulsion, simply **_SKIP THIS CHAPTER**_. I will recap in the next one what happened. There is no reason for you to draw blood unless you _**TRULY _**think it over for a while. **_

_**Second, I have no beta, so most of my stories are "hot off the press" I try to re-read them before posting, but find I often update at night and am too tired to do this. If you see a mistake, typo, error in reasoning, put it in the review box so I can fix it, please.**_

**Congratulations! Because of "**Wrath**",** KoruyuhaIgrainne, and nova bomb** either reviewing or adding me to their story alert list, all of the rest of you readers (yes, I know you're out there, because four people couldn't have brought my hits to 234 for this story!) get a new chapter tonight, with a promise of another one tomorrow morning. Perhaps I could be convinced to update a chapter for every two reviews…not asking too much, I don't think…Oh, and any fans of either genre can probably tell I'm twisting both universes to fit my needs.**

**Onto the story!**

Being one of Gotham's nocturnal crime-fighters, apprenticed to the Dark Knight himself, I have a higher than usual pain threshold. That is why I was able to start that night.

I have always had a strange fascination with blood, even before I started working with the Bat. For some reason, the sight of blood doesn't make me instinctively recoil, but instead calm me, clears my head and embarrassingly, _excites_ me. Every time I get a cut or scratch, I can't help myself. My eyes are just drawn to it. Let me tell you, that makes it kind of hard on missions.

Batman thinks I have repressed memories of abuse or molestation or something (I don't, for the record). It's just that the sight of blood is something I can't look away from. Every time I see it, I want to smell it, touch it, run my crimson fingers over my body, and taste it.

My first hard-on was when I had to help Alfred patch up the Bat after one of his many run-ins with sharp objects.

I have many scars on my body, due to the fact that I never left a scab alone, instead picking them until my skin was _forced _to scar over. Every time I got hurt in a fight, I inwardly rejoiced. Another outlet for my 'habit.' Sometimes I even get sloppy in fights on purpose.

Like I said, I was able to use Her that night at the Cave. At first I only used her tip to scratch on my stomach, and it sated me for a while. But it wasn't enough. So I cut, shallowly. Damn, but it burnt! Only for a minute, though. Absently, I began to 'paint' on myself with it, tracing patterns like the ones on Her hilt. I cut deeper when I needed more to paint with, adding the cuts themselves to the design.

Then a word popped to my mind, and I blurted it out without thinking.

"Ssoulbondss…"

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I started that night, a bit before midnight. Like I said before, Potter has a private room due to his sometimes hectic training schedule. That room has a secret backdoor entrance that only recognizes him and Professor Snape, the one man who is most likely to understand Absolom than any.

After checking the wards, which said Snape had left me a letter to open at my convenience, I lit a fire and undressed; throwing my clothing everywhere and sitting starker in _**my **_chair. After all, it's my room and I see no reason to stand by the rules of modesty here! Or anywhere, really, but that's not the point…

I idly watched the firelight reflecting off of Her, enjoying the innocent creature comfort of the warm fire at my toes.

She called to me, however, and I couldn't resist making a deep scratch, not feeling the pain – _thanks,_ Uncle Vernon. The blood welled up immediately, and I brought my arm in front of my face, watching the crimson line. A few drops fell on my chest, and I spread them around, making runes like those on Her hilt. I made cuts on my chest (that hurt a little) whenever I needed more of my blood-paint.

When my entire torso was covered with red lines and cuts, a word found its way out of my mouth without my consent.

"Ssoulbondss…"

A wind swept through my room, and I only had enough thought to cast a wandless summoning charm to my double-filled holster before my room disappeared into darkness.


	5. A Brief Meeting

I felt my arm hairs rise up, and a strange rushing sound filled my ears. All of the sudden my room in the Cave seemed to draw in on itself then go back to normal.

Only, it _wasn't_ normal. There was another guy in it with me, completely naked and passed out on the floor. In one hand he had a leather holster with two sticks in it, the other held…Her sister?

The guy could have been my twin; he even had blood and cuts all over his torso. Fighting to control my 'little' problem, I was already on my knees, shaking him and checking his vitals. He _seemed_ alright…

"Who the bloody hell are you and why the _fuck_ do you have rune-cuts like mine?" I jumped back, heart racing, and had to hold my head due to the dizzy spell – maybe I shouldn't have used so much blood…

The green-eyed intruder spoke again, pushing himself up, not seeming to notice his lack of dress. "Where am I?"

"You're about three miles out of Gotham City," I replied, mind racing on how I'd handle this – and tell it to the Bat.

"Where?" He had a British accent.

"In the States. The secret headquarters of an organization that fights organized crime." He didn't blink at that, instead rubbed his forehead, then licking some blood from his hand. Damn! I shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm Absolom. Who're you?"

"I'm - "

"**In deep trouble,**" a gruff voice interrupted me. Absolom looked intruded, but my heart sank into my little toe, and I blurted,

"I swear I don't know where he came from, sir, and - "

"_Later_, Tim. Medical bay. **NOW!**"

Ooooh shit.

While I was being cleaned and examined by the strange man in the bat-suit (my partner-in-crime by an older man who spoke like a _normal _person), I tried to read their minds to figure out my situation. But all three had minds like Dumbledore's! Again I started with the questions – how else to find stuff out if I couldn't use the easier ways?

"Where am I?"

"**The Cave.**"

"Oh. Helpful. And who are you?"

"**Batman.**" I looked again at his suit.

"Somehow that seems to fit you…Are you part of Voldemort's forces?" This stunned him…I think.

"No. Lean back." Shrugging I did as he said. A follower of Tom would have been cackling madly by now, telling me all about how his _beloved_ Dark Lord would be _sure _to reward him greatly and _blah, blah, blah_.

I sort of phased out, and didn't notice he was done until I was roughly pulled up into a sitting position. The old man and the other teen were nowhere around, leaving me sitting on a steel tabled all bandaged up in front of a man in a bat suit. Creepy, huh?

"**Talk.**"

"Uh…my name is Absolom?"

"**How did you get in here?**"

"Okay, you can stop with the voice thing, now – it isn't fooling anyone…and as far as I know…well, I don't know how. One moment I was in my room at Hogwarts and the next I was laying on the floor with Trouble leaning over me and you're in the door then seconds later." Well, when in doubt, talk their brain out their ears…

"How did you get those cuts?"

"I did them." I don't think Bats was expecting _that_ response. "Uh, who was the other guy?"

"Tim. **Did you have **_**anything **_**to do with his cuts?**" Okay, back to type-A creepy guy again.

"Me? No! Swear it under Veritiserum! He probably did it with something like…wait. Where is She?" I couldn't believe it. In all of the excitement, I had lost Her. I couldn't help it; I was about to get frantic. "My blade, where is She? You took Her, didn't you? Give Her back, now!"

"No." This shocked me – accidental magic was beginning to pour off me, making all sorts of medical instruments shake, but the Bat paid no mind. Instead he gave me a look that implied he thought I was crazy.

"Why not?" Yes, I know, acting like a petulant brat doesn't help much, but this Batman had stolen something of mine!

"You'll get 'Her' back after she has been examined, along with those two…things you brought with you."

I scoffed. "My wands? Jeeze, they're not harmful unless someone like _you _tries to use them or something." This Bat person was really starting to get me mad. It took a lot of will power not to lash out with accidental magic and pin him to a wall with some scalpels.

The Bat-man didn't seem to notice the danger he was in. "You'll be here under surveillance until I figure out what to do with you." With that the man swept out the door. A moment later, the old man came in, carrying pants, underwear, and most important – food.

I was able to gleam form the man that his name was Alfred, a _proper _English butler who'd been serving the strange Bat's family for years, and that I had suddenly arrived in a very high-security complex without tripping any alarms, and was currently considered Priority 1.

I didn't care what they thought as long as I got some sleep, and I told Alfred this. He sniffed – _sniffed! _– in indignation, then led me through a load of steel corridors to a nice-ish cell. At least, it had a bed, toilet, and pull-up bar for exercise.

Oh, and an added bonus – non-adjustable lighting!

This sucks.


	6. Introductions

**This is to Lemo and blacknightdemon for either reviewing or adding me to their buddy lists. Another chapter on its way, expect it within five hours.**

**Oh, and this story really needs a beta, because I'm not cut out to beta my own stuff.**

** Scrib**

As soon as Batman spoke, I knew I was in for it. I could tell when he left me to Alfred's care, and ignored me for two hours. I was going to get it good!

But surprisingly, I didn't – well, sort of.

"Explain."

"He said he was Absolom, British accent, he appeared in my room after I said _Ssoulbondss _(Here He looked at me strangely) and had a dagger almost like mine, cuts all over, apparently unconscious, holding only the dagger in his right and the holster in his left, with two stick things. When he appeared the room seemed to suck in on itself, then go back to normal and leave him."

"And what were you doing before you said…that phrase?"

"…" I couldn't tell him – He'd kill me, or worse!

In a surprisingly casual tone (which I knew wasn't casual at all, only meant to make me talk) Batman commented, "This Absolom freely admitted that _**he **_was responsible for _his _cuts. And as you have matching daggers, cult-like designs on your bodies, look similar, and _**you **_are looking extremely guilty right now…"

So I told him. Everything. _Everything_. About the blood and…and my sex life and, well, EVERYTHING! When I finished, he sat back and rubbed his eyes: the first sign of weakness I'd seen in years.

"What is your impression on this Absolom?"

"Trustworthy," I blurted. Was I sick? I kept saying stuff without even thinking about it. I could 'see' Batman raise an eyebrow under his cowl. "Uh…"

"I'm going to assign him to _you._ He is not to leave the grounds or know I am Bruce Wayne, nor any more of the Bat-clan's identities. Your own is up to you – he currently knows you as Tim. You _**both**_ are restricted to the grounds until I see fit. Alfred will bring Absolom in a few hours."

Batman kept to his word. All the passwords to leave the grounds had been changed, as well as any over-rides I'd ever known. Alfred prepared a room for Absolom and me, sniffing – yes, _sniffing! _– the entire time. He then brought my partner-in-crime up from the Cave, shutting us in.

"The only person around here who speaks like a normal person, I'd I've somehow gone and pissed him off…Batman said you're Tim, right?" I just plopped down on my bed, groaning mental – the kids at the Tower wouldn't survive a minute with out me.

It's not that I'm arrogant, but none of them, not _one _has been trained to think logically, not even Kon. And _his _dad/sponsor/mentor/guardian/adult-hero-person is Superman! So lost in my musings of the destruction I'd find at the Tower next time I was let out, that I didn't lift my head until I heard the signature _click!_

"Absolom, where did you find that?" The teen in question didn't look up from his perusal of _my _bo staff.

"Ah, so you finally speak. I found it under the third floorboard on the left. I've seen one of these before, but the shopkeep said it's an almost dead art. Too bad, because that one was wicked – it was mithral – blades on each side – the staff was four feet – each blade was nine inches – runes engraved down the entire length…" He looked up. My face must have shown its confusion, because he looked a little sheepish.

"Sorry, I forgot you'd have not idea what I was talking about. You, Alfred, and that crazy man who dresses up like a bat are what my people call Muggles. That means you don't have the 'special abilities' that we do."

Interest piqued in spite of my self, I asked, "What type of abilities?"

"Well," he hedged for a moment, "It's easier to explain with my wands – the two sticks. But there is one thing that would work without them - " And the next thing I knew, there was a CRACK! and he was standing on my bed. Another loud CRACK! and he was back at his own side of the room.

"My God - " Was he a teleporter?

"I'm a wizard, Tim. Born Harry James Potter." Now, unlike Absolom, _that _name struck a bell.

"YOU'RE Harry Potter? That rich British kid they're going crazy to find?" Well, with two hours to kill, and me only having a TV…

"Oh, Merlin, they are? There's not a reward, is there?" Absolom/Harry didn't seem as excited as I'd thought he'd be.

"Uhm, yeah, there is."

"I can pay more if you don't send me back – does the Bat-whacko own this mansion?" Gritting my teeth, I shoved the insult to my mentor aside.

"A man named Bruce Wayne does. He's a friend, sort of."

"Oh?"

"They aren't always on the same level of sight. Batman's a - "

" - crimefighter, yeah, I got that much out of Alfred. How do you know this guy, anyways?" Well, I guess he'd find out one way or another.

"Because I'm his apprentice in crime fighting. My 'hero' name s Robin. Much like your normal-person name is Absolom. I've been training with him for years, helping him defend Gotham from crazy villains."

"So you're saying you're fighting to protect the innocents, keep the streets safe, and defeat those who'd rule the world?"

"Pretty much." Why was he so cool about it?

"Alright then. Sign me up."

"Huh?"


	7. Learning

A BIG 'Hello' to all of my faithful readers, especially those who have added me to their update lists! Contrary to popular belief, I am neither dead nor in a coma, merely too busy to even think about updating. BUT! I was reading my first fic in a long time (Indago, on I believe…) and I realized that I need to get my $$ in gear!

So, although this is hot off the press and probably not my best work, here it is, the next installment of

The Fell Brotherhood 

Chapter Seven – ROBIN

"Alright then. Sign me up."

"Huh?" Absolom/Harry? stood up, pacing our room, spinning _my _bo staff in his hands.

"That's what I've been preparing for my entire life – destroying an evil madman wanting to take over the world and use mass-genocide to kill all Muggles and those who stand in his way. I'm a dead shot aim wise and know more spells than most Aurors…uhm, dark wizard catchers."

I half-wondered if Absolom/Harry?! would write me a glossary for his wizarding talk.

"I hate to burst your bubble, but I highly doubt Batman would let you on the team, what with you just dropping in out of thin air – wait a second…" He was still toying with my bo staff. "How did you know about the compartment under the floorboard?"

"Hmm? Oh, that. My aunt and uncle were the biggest Muggles you've ever seen – they have a very Medieval outlook on magic. I found the compartment in my room as soon as I was upgraded to the smallest bedroom in the house. Damn useful for hiding food when my fat tub of lard cousin's diet was enforced for the whole family…"

"_Upgraded?"_

"Yeah. First ten years of my life I spent with them I was kept in the cupbard under the stairs. No big deal, buecase I won't have to go back to them ever again."

"You don't?" Absolom/Harry?!!!? gave me a look that said, 'You clearly don't get it, do you?'

"Because," he explained patiently, "I'm going to convince this Bat-fellow to let me help until I've got enough experience to kill Tom – the crazy maniac who's got dreams of world-domination. Then I'll come back here and help out until I die of old age."

"Now, Harry, look - "

"_**DON'T CALL ME THAT!"**_

Whoa! He just did a scarier Bat-voice than Batman!

"Uhm, is it safe to ask why?" Absolom (NOT Harry!) sat on the floor, rubbing his forehead again, then lifted the fringe of his hair, showing a lighting-bolt scar.

"See this? It's what makes me famous in my world – on Halloween night when I was only one year old, the same crazy, calling himself 'Lord Voldemort' barged into my house and killed my parents. When he went after me, though, he couldn't. The Killing Curse rebounded and hit him, ripping his soul fro his body. He fled for thirteen years, during which I was known as 'Harry Potter – The Boy-Who-Lived,' the only one to ever survive that curse. I am now looked upon as the Wizarding World's Savior-From-Whatever-Evil-Lurks. _THAT'S _why I hate the name 'Harry Potter.'"

"Oh. Ouch." Absolom snorted, then gave a harsh laugh.

"Yeah, 'ouch.' That's why I want to sign on. To fight crazies like Tom, _before_ they get so far."


	8. Good Luck!

Hey, all. Sorry about the long, long, very long wait. I've been going through a not-so-nice time – I found out that the reason my father left the Air Force was because he had abused the trust his position gave him. He was a training instructor and had used this position to try to have an affair on my mother (while I was four years old!) with a woman trainee. He was supposed to be court-marshaled but managed to scrape together enough letters and crap that he was "discharged in lieu of court-martial." Even then, he could have been given dishonorable discharge but instead managed to get a general discharge under HONOURABLE CONDITIONS! **Tell me, what is honorable in trying to cheat on your wife and young child with someone who looks up to you as an instructor, as a teacher?!**

I also fell back into some old habits that I'd been doing good on – the trigger-based ones. Mainly because I broke things off with my fiancé of over a year. I realized that while I loved him and he very well could have loved me, he had no respect for me as a human, only as a companion who would spread her legs whenever he wanted, and whose opinions could be brushed aside without thought.

So, yeah, it's been a tough couple of months – I've had to talk to a therapist and everything. But enough about me – compared to Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Harry, at least I still have a breathing sperm-donor an no mandatory daily work-outs.

Chapter Eight.

**Absolom**

Well, Tim/Robin (?) was only part right. I wasn't allowed on the team (or leave the grounds at any time!), but I _was _allowed to join in the training. I'm surprised Bats even let me back into the Cave, considering how I arrived.

I've met most of the Bat-clan now, and even get to talk with Oracle from time to time.

What I see as strange, though, is that wile I'm not allowed to know anyone's name except for Tim's – yet I can see their faces without the masks. Except the Bat's, of course…

I've even met Bruce Wayne, who seems sorta distant, but he's nice enough, considering (once again) how I arrived in his "basement" and am now one of Batman's wards.

I think I'm starting to get to the Bat. He no longer uses with Voice with me _all_ of the time, and even said I was "The WORST excuse for a crime-fighter" he'd ever seen. Harsh, I know, but not only did He speak to me, _acknowledging my existence_, but he also called me a crime-fighter!

It seems that everything I do now is for the sole purpose of getting His approval. And you know what? It doesn't bother me in the slightest.

I think Tim/Robin (?!!?) is warming up to me as well. At least, he's talking to me and opting to spend time training with me, although he certainly doesn't have to! It turns out that Robin/Tim? had a family, at least a dad and step mom. He lost them, too.

He did me a "real solid" by not telling anyone that I was Harry Potter, the rich kid from Europe that went missing.

Speaking of that, I believe Tim/Robin??!? is a wizard. I can't be sure, though, because I don't know any spells or have spell-books that would tell me how to find out…

**Batman**

Absolom is an enigma. He's been here for three months, and has yet to make any sort of nefarious demand. He rarely_ asks_ for _anything._ He seemed honestly surprised when I had Bruce bet him a new wardrobe. It wasn't anything extravagant, just some pants and shirts and one suit in case he is made a permanent addition.

Alfred made that…"suggestion." He seems to be growing fond of the boy, which honestly surprises me, considering how the first week he absolutely _loathed_ the boy.

Robin told me Absolom wants to join the team. I've seen the boy, and he's not bad, at least compared to Jason or Tim when they started training.

About Absolom. He claims to be a _wizard,_but he's nothing like Klaron (…) the Witch-Boy. In fact, he never used his "magic" around me. Robin says that since I allowed him back his wands for good (before he had been able to use them during heavily supervised training conditions) he's had them day in and out, using for the smallest things. Robin's voice is laced with a twinge of jealousy when he speaks of Absolom's magic.

For once in a long time, I'm not entirely sure about something – should I let him on the team or not…?

I think I'll have him fight me for a place with us.

**Tim/Robin**

Crazy, the both of them. Batman's agreed to let Absolom on the team (probationary period only) only if he can last three minutes in all-out combat, down in the Cave. Absolom is pumped – he had Bruce order some 'magic books' for him by – get this – owl. They just arrived last night, and he's been locked in the training room we save for Clark since then. Every so often I can hear a faint boom. I can only hope he knows what he is doing.

The match is going to be tomorrow, and I really don't know if either one of them is going to come out of it unscathed.$

* * *

Soo...go read Broken Mind, Fractured Soul by Sensibly Tainted. I command you. Also, I know many of you have me on your alert lists for when I update, but I have to say it. I will not update unless someone actually, you know, _reviews_! I am flattered that you all like my story enough to want to know the instant more stuff comes out, but I need some reassurance, here.


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